‘How do you know, Sergeant Major?’ asked Garret.
‘They’re bored and they’ve been here for at least a week.’ He pointed to a slit trench over to their right.
Garret said, ‘I can smell it. You’re right. They’ve been here for a while.’
‘And unless I’m mistaken, there’s nothing here worth waiting for, so they’re waiting for someone else to show up.’
‘Who?’
‘That’s what I intend to find out.’
He motioned the men forward and they walked their horses to within sight of the camp.
A bored soldier sat polishing his sword and he glanced up as Erik and the others hove into view. His eyes widened and he shouted.
As soon as Erik heard the man’s voice, the hair on the back of his neck stood up and he shouted to the rear, ‘Attack!’
Swords were in hands without thought and the sound of the riders coming hard filled the afternoon air. In the camp, men ran to bedrolls and pulled on armor as they could, or grabbed shields and swords, bows and arrows, and the fight began.
As Erik had planned, the column of twos rode into the center of the camp behind him just as the sweeping skirmish line encircled the camp. Men screamed as arrows filled the air and steel rang upon steel as the riders swept into the clearing. Many of the men who rode with Erik were mounted bowmen and quickly picked off targets as men struggled to don armor.
Erik rode down two men as he headed for the center of the camp. Whoever led these men was certain to be there, and he intended to find the leader before some overly eager Kingdom archer skewered him with a bowshaft.
Erik saw the leader.
The man was an oasis of calm as those around him ran in every direction. He shouted orders and attempted to bend his men by force of will into an effective fighting force. Erik put heels to his horse and charged him.
The leader sensed more than saw Erik approach, so intent was he on directing his men. He turned to see the horse and rider almost on top of him and dove to one side, avoiding Erik’s charge.
Erik turned his mount and found the man now armed with sword and shield, quickly retrieved from the ground. Erik knew he faced a tough opponent, for the man had dived in the direction of his weapons. He would not rattle.
Erik knew better than to charge him again, for to do so was to risk having the man duck under his attack and hamstring his horse. He was probably calm and confident enough to attempt that dangerous move.
His men were taking a terrible toll on those in camp, and Erik circled his opposite number, waiting. The man eyed him warily, ready for the charge that didn’t come, and Erik shouted, ‘Keep as many of them alive as possible.’
When it became clear that the men in the camp were hopelessly outclassed by those on horseback, soldiers began throwing down their weapons and crying for quarter.
Quickly the matter resolved itself in Erik’s favor, and when at last there was no doubt, the leader threw down his weapon. Erik knew that in Novindus, it was the accepted sign of surrender by mercenaries.
Erik glanced around and saw a banner lying on the ground. The emblem was familiar to him. Erik rode his horse toward the man. Garret and the other soldiers looked perplexed as the Prince’s Sergeant Major spoke in a strange tongue.
To the man, Erik said, ‘Duga and his War Dogs, if I’m not mistaken.’
The man nodded. ‘Who are you?’
‘I rode with Calis’s Crimson Eagles.’
Captain Duga, mercenary leader of one hundred swords, sighed. ‘You were to be killed on sight, and that was on the other side of the world.’
‘You’ve come a long way,’ observed Erik.
‘That’s the truth.’ He glanced around and saw his men being disarmed by Erik’s. ‘What now?’
‘That depends. If you cooperate, you’ll get a chance to stay alive. If you don’t . . .’
‘I won’t break oath,’ Duga said.
Erik studied the man. He had been almost a classic mercenary captain in Novindus. Clever, if not intelligent, but smart enough to keep his men alive, a requirement of any captain. He’d be tough enough to keep a surly band of cutthroats in line, and he’d be honest enough to keep contracts, else no one would hire him.
‘No oath need be broken. You’re our prisoner, but we can hardly give you parole to return home.’
Bitterly the man said, ‘I don’t even know where home is.’
Erik pointed to the southwest. ‘That way - on the other side of the world, as you said.’
‘Care to loan us a boat?’ Duga asked with bitter irony.
‘Perhaps. If you share some information with us, you might find yourselves with some opportunity to return home.’ Erik didn’t comment on how slim the chance of that occurring might be.
‘Talk,’ said Duga.
‘Start with, how did you get here?’
‘Through one of those magic gates the snake men make.’ He shrugged. ‘They offered a bonus for any captain who led his men through.’ He glanced around. ‘Though where I’ll spend it, the gods only know.’
Erik said, ‘How long have you been here?’